A la prochaine...
Spending the day in Paris and transporting myself to Place des Vosges for a blissful day of fabulousness...
Sitting at a cafe and ordering a café au lait in perfect French while channeling the exquisite Juliette Binoche.
Exuding the ultimate in au natural femininity and undeniable sex appeal with smudged mascara under my eyes.
Smoking my second gauloise of the morning, very nonchalantly.
Extremely accomplished editor for Vogue Paris...having given up modeling to finish masters in philosophy with a minor in metaphysics from the Sorbonne.
Non, rien de rien, Non, je ne regrette rien…
Abruptly awoken from trance and hurtled back to reality because stoner child wants to know how long it takes to microwave Trader Joes macaroni and cheese and who drank the last Le Croix. It's not even lunch time.
And now Instacart delivery person is calling and wants to know if I want a substitute for honey nut cherrios.. much more breakfast appropriate if it would fucking get here...
Seriously questioning my life choices...contemplating smoking myself thin and pretending to ignore the rivers of sweat falling from my under boobs beneath my is-it-four-day-old muumuu…
Really catapulted back to reality now... cat just threw up a hair ball... having to come to terms with the harsh reality that I have to finally succumb to mopping the fucking floors. Merde!.